


Distracted

by Webhoard



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Injury, Injury Recovery, The Medbay, why do I injure all of my characters?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-12 20:24:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11744526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webhoard/pseuds/Webhoard
Summary: You and Scotty are working while distracted, landing you both in the medbay. You and he keep each other company





	1. Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a grade 2 tear in my right lat. gastrocnemius (one of the calf muscles), and I’m hella upset about it because I’m running the San Antonio Marathon on Dec. 3, and this is going throw a massive wrench in my training. So, this fic is me, channeling a lot of the mental stress that sports injuries cause into something more productive than self-pity and uncontrollable sobbing…and believe me; I know sports injuries because I am an actual human disaster.

“It’s a grade 3 tear of your lateral gastrocnemius. For now use the RICE method, but I’m going to need you to come in for regeneration treatments at the end of the week. You shouldn’t need more than four or five sessions before we get you into some basic physical therapy and back onto your feet.”

“Eat rice? And why do I need so many regen treatments?” You asked, clearly confused. You had a sinking feeling in your gut as he had described what sounded like a relatively lengthy healing process. Why couldn’t there be some magical medical tech that could zap your torn muscle right back together?

“Ah, it means rest, ice, compression, and elevation. I’ll have one of the nurses come by to apply a compression wrap and a get your leg on a wedge pillow to elevate your leg.” He made a few notes on his PADD, “And as for the treatments, well, healing bones and skin is one thing, but muscle groups and fibers are complex, so simple regeneration lasers cannot quickly…”

Your mind drifted as McCoy began slipped into what felt like a foreign language of medical terminology, a sick feeling forming in your stomach. The little you could understand did not bode well for you. “So will I get some crutches or something to get around until the regen treatments?”

“You’re going to be largely immobilized for the time being. You’ll need to stay in the medbay tonight so that we can track the progress of the swelling, maybe even longer.” Dr. McCoy hesitated, looking you in the eyes and hastily adding, “And I’ll have to take you off the roster for the landing party next week.”

You went cold. “What?! Are you kidding me, doc?” You shouted. You practically leaped out of your biobed at his words, but a sharp stabbing sensation in your right leg halted any further progress before you fell backward onto your pillows, clutching your calf with a gasp. 

McCoy just looked at you knowingly, “Like I said. I’m taking you off the mission. But you know what? If you can climb out of bed and just make it back to your quarters without collapsing in agony, then I’ll go ahead and clear you.” He looked up from his PADD with a one of his furrowed brows slightly raised, “But if that seems like an impossible task, then I’d suggest that you settle in. I’ll have someone from your unit bring you your PADD and some pajamas, which might be more comfortable than the hospital gown.”

You nodded mutely as you began processing everything. As McCoy headed for the nurses’ station, presumably to settle your charts and get the compression wrap sent over, you let your face drop into your palms.

You could not believe this was happening. Only a half an hour earlier, you had been running through some grapevine drills with your security unit. You hadn’t been paying attention, merely going through the motions while your mind wandered somewhere else, to someone else. Then reality brought you back with a sharp snap. It had happened so quickly that you almost couldn’t fully recall it. You remembered landing too hard and a little too sloppily on your forefoot and hearing an audible popping sound that coincided with a sharp pressure in back of your right calf as if someone had kicked you there. And the next thing you knew, your leg had given out and you were on the floor trying to will away the pain in your leg. Just like that, in the blink of an eye, you were disqualified from the landing party on a new class-m planet. And it was all because of one moment of inattentiveness during drills: because a stupid schoolgirl crush had distracted you. And since you were a security officer who could not currently stand, let alone run drills or fight or defend anyone, you were likely to get stuck on the Enterprise with all the paperwork and incident reports for the foreseeable future. 

While you were in the midst of your self-pitying inner monologue, you noticed a commotion near the entrance to the medbay as someone was brought in. You saw a red shirt and a flash of light brown hair peaking from behind the hoard of nurses. However, before you could get a better look at who it was, one of the nurses not involved in the situation rushed over with a wrap and wedge and hastily began wrapping your leg.

“What’s going on over there?” You asked, wanting to be in on the medbay happenings since you were apparently stuck there for the night.

“I haven’t a clue. Looks like an engineer or security officer by the red shirt.” She mused aloud, clearly in a hurry to find out for herself. 

She soon finished wrapping your leg and got it situated on the wedge, before handing you a painkiller and cup of water. And with that, she whisked herself away to join the fray around the mystery red-shirt, leaving you to continue wallowing in self-pity. However, your dark thoughts soon faded into darkness as the painkiller lulled you to sleep.

* * *

When you awoke, it was, according to the large clock above the nurses’ station, some hours later. You groggily rubbed your eyes, which soon landed on a neat bundle at the foot of your bed. Someone from your security team must have brought you your PADD and PJs while you slept. Not wanting to spend another minute in your scratchy hospital gown, you beckoned one of the female nurses over to close the curtains around your bed. She then had to help you get into said PJs so as to avoid exacerbating your injury, and even with her help, it was rather painful and difficult pulling on your sweatpants over your right leg. So, by the time she reopened the curtains, you were flustered and hot from the exertion.

You then noticed that you had a neighbor in the adjacent bed. He was no longer in his red shirt, but the light brown hair was the same as before: Montgomery Scott, the man on whom you’d been fixated been thinking about rather than your form or posture during drills. His eyes met yours, and he gave you a sweet smile. You briefly returned the smile before you almost immediately looked down and reached for your PADD to occupy yourself with lest your eyes betray you. 

It was no secret among your friends in security that you had a bit of a crush on the man. And how could you not? You had occasionally been stationed in or near the engineering deck. While you had never plucked up the courage to talk to him, you and he usually at least shared a brief ‘hello’ or a friendly wave when you were on duty in engineering or happened to pass each other in the halls. He was brilliant at his job, he was quite easy on the eyes, and his accent…You were in deep.

You could feel your face growing warmer as you thought about him and how close he was to you, and your blankets and sweatpants began to feel stifling and hot, a thin sheen sweat forming along your hairline. You awkwardly tried to extricate yourself and your elevated leg from the net-like blankets, squirming and getting even hotter from the exertion. Over the rustling and shuffling of blankets, you heard a low chuckle come from your left.

“Ye a’right there, lass?” He asked with audible amusement.

You didn’t look up from your current task as you responded disjointedly, “Yeah, I’m just− trying to− argh! get these damn blankets off!” Finally with one last kick from your good leg, you freed yourself from the sweltering fleece. Realizing that you had become a touch agitated, you looked over at Mr. Scott sheepishly. “The blankets were a touch warm, and I can’t really move so…” You trailed off, gesturing to your wrapped leg.

With an bemused expression, he opened his mouth to reply but was cut off as a nurse came over. “Here’s a new ice pack for your leg. I’ll come over in about twenty minutes to fetch it.” She placed the ice pack under your calf and began pulling your tangle of blankets back over you.

“Oh, please. I’m actually quite warm.” You protested as she pulled up the fleece blanket. 

“Trust me, sweetie, you’ll cool off before you know it with that ice pack. Best to get you warmed up now.” She tucked them neatly around your body as you sat there helplessly before she headed back to her station.

Mr. Scott laughed again but this time with less compunction than before. “It would seem ye’ve been overruled.”

You could feel the heat rising in your face and chest again, as you returned his comment with a shaky grin. It was then that you noticed his left hand, which was completely wrapped in gauze.

Noticing your stare, he offered, “Ach, it’s nothin’. Just got mysel’ burned up fiddling with some wiring.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing,” you mumbled out, finally finding your voice. “How bad is it really?”

“Well, Dr. McCoy says I’ll need to wait until tomorrow for the dermal regenerator, but if all goes to plan, I’ll be right as rain for the mission next week.” 

“Well, that’s good. I’m sure you’d be missed if you couldn’t make it on the mission.” You tried to smile supportively, but Mr. Scott noticed the tension in your face and posture.

“What about you? Ensign Y/LN, right? What’d ye do to your leg?” He asked with a soft expression.

“Yeah, just Y/FN,” you responded, surprised that he even knew your name, but you waved off his question about your leg from both a desire to not seem weak and a remaining shred of misguided denial that the injury was as bad as McCoy had diagnosed. “Oh, it’s not too bad, just a strained muscle in my calf. I should be on my feet…soon.”

“Hmm,” he mused, not seeming convinced. “From what I overheard the nurses discussing, it sounded pretty bad. And McCoy himself said ye’d be off the mission next week.”

You responded sharply, “You never know, I might surprise everyone.” _Or not_ , you finished in your head, returning to your PADD, unsure how to continue the conversation.

Seeming to not take offence to the agitated tone of your last comment, he added, “Well, I’m jus’ glad, selfishly I’ll admit, that I’ll no’ be stuck in the medbay alone. They’re keeping me here for the night as well.” He smiled over at you, the skin around his eyes wrinkling and his whole face lighting up.

Your breathing hitched a bit, but you couldn’t help smiling in return. While you had been anxious when you had first woken up, you were now finding that Mr. Scott’s presence was actually quite soothing. Maybe it was indeed the ice pack or perhaps it was the slow calming of your nerves around Mr. Scott, but you finally felt your body temperature normalizing. 

You both spent the next hour or so in relative silence on your PADDs, various nurses coming by to apply or remove your ice packs as needed. You passed the time re-reading one of your guilty-pleasure novels on your PADD, the kind you could just escape into, so you were surprised when a nurse pushed a cart with two plates of food on it. Apparently it was dinnertime already. 

In an attempt to break the silence, you piped up, “So, Mr. Scott, how’s your…chicken, I think it is?”

“It’s, well, it get’s the job done.” He said and, with an amused but exasperated sigh, added, “And, please, just call me Scotty. No need to make me sound older than I am.”

You chuckled and teased him, “Oh yeah, you must be what, going on sixty, huh?”

“Now lass, ye shouldn’t make fun of my age. But I’ll have you know I’m easily going on seventy,” he joked back.

You smiled contritely, “I was just joking. Besides, you started it.” You looked at jokingly intense face, “I’d put you at thirty-eight at most.”

“I’ll never tell,” he said with a smile and playful roll of his eyes.

“So, Scotty, what exactly were you doing that you burned yourself so badly?” You asked through a mouthful of food. You were not necessarily known for your table manners.

He too responded before quite finishing his bite of food. “I wasna paying attention, had my mind elsewhere,” you noticed his cheeks and neck turn a bit pink, “and I crossed the wrong wires. Then boom! The whole damn circuit board went up in sparks and burnt the Christ out of my hand.”

You grimaced at the mental image, “What had you so distracted? I’ve seen you at work; you’re like a machine.”

“Ach, nothing.” The tips of his ears were now beginning to redden. “I was lost in my thoughts.”

Seeing his discomfort, you decided not to press him. “But you’ll be fine after the dermal regen treatments?”

“Yeah, miracles of medical science, eh, lass?” He looked down at his food, asking, “So why are ye goin’ ta be off your feet for so long?”

“Well, as the good doctor said, fixing muscles is more complicated that fixing skin or bones.” You couldn’t help the frown that settled on your face, “I guess there’s a lot going on with all the muscle fibers and whatnot. He told me a bunch of medical jargon, but I didn’t really catch it.” 

“Does it hurt bad?” He asked.

“Kind of? They’ve got me on these painkillers, but they’re trying to keep the dose low so that I don’t accidentally make it worse thrashing around in my blankets.” You smiled slightly, trying to lighten the conversation.

“Well if ye need a hand with those blankets, be sure to let me know.” He smiled wryly, “I’ve only go’ the one for now, but it should be enough.”

You chuckled and shook your head, your face heating up again, “I’ll keep that in mind.” Maybe being stuck in the medbay wasn’t so bad after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other parts will probably come about 5 days apart. Thanks for reading!


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, I posted this like 3 days ago on Tumblr and completely forgot to post if here because I am a scatterbrain.
> 
> So this part is from Scotty’s POV. I tried doing 1st person POV but it was absolute shite, so this is just a really omniscient (and biased) narrator. I also know jack about electrical engineering (despite being in a family of engineers), so I kinda muddled my way through this part with what little I remember from college physics and some mad googling.

It had started out like any other morning for Montgomery Scott, or Scotty, as his friends called him. He hit the snooze button on his alarm no less than three times, hurriedly washed up in the bathroom, dressed himself in his engineering reds, drank down his now luke-warm tea from his special china teacup, doubled back to his quarters when he realized he’d forgotten to put on his shoes, and ate a hasty breakfast of poached eggs and toast in the mess hall before rushing off to the engineering deck. Yes, this morning was like almost any other morning, save for one detail. Scotty had an extra bounce in his step. He had made up his mind the night before, and this was the morning that he was going say more than a simple ‘hello’ to a certain security officer. He could help the wide smile that was plastered to his face as he stepped out of the lift doors and onto the engineering deck…that was until he saw a rather tall burly looking man standing in the very spot where you should have been. 

Scotty’s smile faltered, and the sweet song that had been running through his head all morning came to a sudden stop with the twenty-third-century equivalent of a record scratch. Recognizing the officer, he walked up the man and tried to sound casual as he asked, “Ensign Baker, where, ah, is Ensign Y/LN not coming in t’day?” 

The tall and beefy ensign responded in a surprisingly soft and gentle voice, “Oh, Mr. Scott, she’s out today. I think she’s sick or something.” He looked down pensively, “Would you like for me to pass on a message to her?”

Scotty, still feigning a lack of any particular interest, responded, “No, lad, it’ll wait.” 

He turned on his heel, the bright mood he’d been sporting all morning suddenly felt muted. As the Enterprise’s chief engineer, he often felt like the universe had it out for the ship, especially given how many catastrophes seemed to follow her. But today, he was sure that the universe had it out for him. He would just have to wait to talk to you. So, with no recourse, he shuffled into his office to sign off on all the day’s work assignments for his engineers. 

Once he’d completed his start-of-shift tasks, Scotty began scanning his own work orders for something to do, the more complicated, the better. He wanted—needed—something mentally stimulating to help ease himself out of the fog that had settled in his mind. Choosing a particularly tricky piece of maintenance for the lighting systems to work on, one that he had been procrastinating on because of its tediousness, he set off for the room that held the power cells and switch boards for lighting. And despite the fact that he had been pondering the logistics of the lighting upgrade for more than a week, his mind began to wander away from the task at hand, and he began **meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow**.

* * *

“Ach, there ye are, ye bastard,” Scotty mumbled to himself and the switchgear as he grabbed a bundle of insulated wires. This initial task was simple enough but necessary; he needed to reroute the emergency power to the lighting system so as to prevent a disruption of the lights on the Enterprise. However, his mind was focused on a pair of fine eyes, and not on the color of the wires he had just grabbed. 

What happened next was a direct result of his distracted mind and was a simple and avoidable error, but one with catastrophic effects. The wires in this bundle ended with a large plug that served as an output for the electrical power from the emergency power grid of the ship, which he then plugged it into the output of the main power grid rather than the input for the lighting system. In essence, he plugged a large power source into the output of an even larger power source, resulting in a short circuit that not even twenty-third century switchgears could handle. In other words, there came a loud boom.

In the weeks, months, and even years to come, Scotty would replay that morning’s work in his head. He would turn it over and examine his actions from every angle all in an attempt to figure out what exactly he had done to cause the surge of electricity that led to a rapid heating of the wires and circuitry, which overloaded the system and caused the violent explosion of energy in the form of heat, sparks, and then fire. But it all happened so quickly and destructively that Scotty could only surmise that he had ‘crossed the wrong wires.’

These events and those that came after were all a blur for Scotty. His ears began to violently ring. Engineers, whose faces he couldn’t make out, rushed in to assess the damage to both the power grid and their CO, but their voices were too feeble to be heard over the thundering and ringing in his ears. He remembers being half walked and half dragged to the medbay. He remembers the tension in McCoy’s voice when he came to Scotty’s bed. And he remembers the dull pinch in his neck before the sedative made his vision go black.

When Scotty awoke, an irritated Dr. McCoy told him what a fool he was before giving him his prognosis: wait for the swelling to go down, then dermal regeneration. The explosion had also singed off his whole left eyebrow, but there was nothing McCoy could do regrow hair. Scotty would just have to wait and let it come back in naturally. McCoy left Scotty’s bedside muttering to himself about “these damn reckless redshirts today.”

There was nothing else for it, so Scotty settled onto his bead, preparing himself for a dull day of bed-bound paperwork on his PADD when his eyes fell to the bed on his right. It was your sleeping form that occupied it. His heart skipped a beat, and he began to wonder if his injury were a stroke of good luck or bad luck or maybe a little of both.

He seized this opportunity to observe you uninterrupted. Your hair was splayed messily beneath your head, but it looked beautiful to him. Your eyes were closed, and you had a peaceful expression. Your lips were slightly parted as you breathed deeply and your chest rose and fell at a slow and steady pace. He did notice with some worry that your leg appeared to be elevated underneath the covers, realizing that this was probably what Ensign Baker had been talking about earlier. Despite his aching hand, it was starting to feel like these events were good rather than bad. It was all he could do to tear his eyes away and start his paperwork and remote managing of the engineers.

It was at least two hours later before he heard you stir awake and beckon a nurse. One of your friends from security had brought a small bag of clothes and your PADD, and from the sounds of huffing and shuffling rom behind the curtain, Scotty surmised that the nurse was assisting you with you with the change of clothes. His heart jumped again when you looked over at him and faintly returned his smile.

He watched with amusement as you thrashed about trying to free yourself from the blankets while also keeping your right leg stationary. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the situation unfolding in front of him. He just hoped that your angle on the bed didn’t permit a full view of his missing left eyebrow. He also hoped that you wouldn’t catch the slight blush he was sporting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that bolded line was from Pride and Prejudice. hashtagNoRegrets


End file.
